


Body, Mind, and Soul

by consulting_vulcan_jedi_detective



Series: Hell Has A New King [4]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angel!Alfred, Devil!Ivan, Ivan is a little bit not good, M/M, POV Alfred, Snippets, minimal plot, talking in bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 20:25:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9459131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consulting_vulcan_jedi_detective/pseuds/consulting_vulcan_jedi_detective
Summary: Ivan is not what Alfred had thought, but he's working through it. Ivan helps by not being concerned whatsoever about his spilled secrets (it's part of the the Devil's job to not be worried).





	

“You are wonderful,” Ivan praises, in between hungry kisses. He runs his tongue along Alfred’s collarbone briefly before his fingers move and start tugging Alfred’s shirt up.

Honestly, Alfred doesn’t know why he’s still seeing Ivan. It might be the fact that the sex is fantastic, or it might be that he’s subconsciously still trying to find a way to save Ivan’s soul, impossibly problematic though that has suddenly become. Or—and this is the reason he hates to admit to himself—perhaps it is love, real and simple, that keeps him here.

His shirt is bunched up around his chest now, and he squirms to help Ivan pull it over his head. His wings extend when Ivan slides his hands over his bare back. The response is habitual and natural. He knows that Ivan likes to see his wings, that he thinks that they are beautiful. He wonders now if there is a more sinister motive behind Ivan’s constant caressing of his feathers, but Alfred has only ever seen admiration in those touches.

Now Ivan is behind him, running his hands along the upper bones of Alfred’s wings. They come to a rest, one hand at each feathered base, and Alfred shivers, wondering if there is enough inhuman strength in those hands to tear the wings from his back.

Then the hands move away and Ivan’s arms wrap around his chest. The Devil rests his head on Alfred’s shoulder, and he purrs, “I’m going to keep you.”

Alfred thinks that should be setting off alarm bells in his head, but all he says is, “What if I don’t want to be kept?”

Ivan is silent, but his breathing quickens against Alfred’s back.

“Would you clip my wings?” Alfred asks. “Stop me from flying away?”

Ivan shifts against him, fingers stroking down his belly idly. “Oh, Alfred,” he breathes. “I’d never clip your wings. I’m not _evil_.”

~

He often wants to ask Ivan what his feelings are for him. He wants to know that he’s not just an amusement, a novelty. Ivan is young, and his mind is the mind of a human sorcerer, one that would feasibly be perversely delighted at the thought of tainting an angel.

There is also the possibility that this affair is part of a longer, deeper game. The Devil is, after all, an enemy of Heaven, and Alfred is an instrument of Heaven. There are surely benefits for Hell if its King can successfully toy with the heart of an angel, and if that is the objective, Ivan has surely succeeded.

So he won’t say the words, won’t let himself be so vulnerable to Ivan.

He has to hold himself in check, because he is afraid that if he asks, his lover will tell him the truth. He’s afraid that he won’t like what he hears.

~

“I miss you, Alfred,” Matthew’s voice says from beside Alfred. He turns to see Ivan looking at him through his coworker’s face. “We were so good together,” “Matthew” says softly, smiling timidly as he lies beside him. “I think about you all the time.”

Alfred stares at him, frozen.

“Matthew” reaches a soft hand out, placing it on Alfred’s chest. “I want to feel you again,” he says quietly, stroking his other hand down his cock and fluttering his eyes closed in pleasure. Then he looks up at Alfred through feathery eyelashes. “Alfred,” he whispers, longingly, “You want me too, don’t you?” His tone is meek, pleading. “Don’t you, Alfred?”

Alfred realizes that he’s reaching for that deceptive face. He snatches his fingers back, breath catching.

“Matthew” laughs then, nothing like the angel Alfred knows, and then he looks like Kiku, small and dark-haired.

He’s stoic-faced now, but then he flicks his eyes to the side almost ashamedly, and “Kiku” says, voice almost a whisper, “Agent, I have a confession.” He looks at Alfred quickly before his cheeks redden and he covers his face with his hands. “I can’t,” “Kiku” says quietly, to himself. “I mustn’t,” he says, sounding like he’s trying to convince himself.

“Stop it,” Alfred says, almost frightened.

“No,” “Kiku” says in character, sounding determined, “I will tell you.” He stretches toward Alfred’s face uncertainly. Alfred can feel a small erection pressing into his thigh.

“Kiku” looks down, embarrassed. “I want you to, to t-take me, Agent,” he says, eyes wide and nervous. His face flushes even more. “You’re so big, so strong. I want you to use me,” he says, pressing close. “I know it’s not proper. It gets so difficult, trying to be proper all the time.” Then he pauses, looking up at Alfred with serious brown eyes. “You’ll do it, won’t you? You can do whatever you want with me.”

Alfred pushes at him. “Stop it, stop it,” he says, voice strained.

Ivan rolls over him then, pinning him on his back. His eyes are violet and wicked and his pale hair practically makes a halo around his head. “You didn’t like that,” he says, gazing down at Alfred.

“No,” Alfred says, emphatically.

Ivan lowers kisses to his throat. “Then I won’t do it again,” he says, smiling.

True shapeshifting isn’t a tool available to human sorcerers. Only pure, infernal power can do that, or divinity. “You’re the Devil,” Alfred says.

“I know,” Ivan says, pulling back a little. His grin widens. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

 _No_ , Alfred thinks. _I really have let the Devil fuck me_. It is too easy to forget that. He doesn’t know how it is that nobody’s noticed yet and locked him out of Heaven. “You’re not human,” he adds.

“Of course I am,” Ivan says, lowering his eyelids.

“No real human would do what you do,” Alfred says gloomily. “Besides, humans don’t have wings.”

“My soul is human,” Ivan shrugs. “Everything else is plumage.”

~

Alfred cannot deny that he is happy when he is with Ivan, despite the fact that his lover apparently enjoys fucking with Alfred’s mind as much as he does his body. Ivan may be the Devil, but Alfred is coming to terms with the fact that he has been so all the time that they have known each other.

Ivan is still caring and tender and easily delighted. He is still unpredictable and a little bit cruel, just the way he’s always been with Alfred. _He_ sees no reason to change his behavior just because his secrets have been revealed.

So, somehow, they’ve been carrying on with their lives as if nothing is changed, nothing is wrong.

~

It’s nice, just sitting in the middle of the bed together. Tonight, Ivan is a warm presence at Alfred’s side, and in the hazy afterglow of long, unhurried sex, Alfred is content despite everything.

“I love you,” he breathes. The words, so comfortable, just slip out before he can think.

Ivan blinks at him, mouth curving with pleasure. He pulls Alfred closer and kisses him once, and against his mouth he says, easily, “I love you, too.”

That makes Alfred’s heart thud so loudly that he’s sure the neighbors can hear it, and he jerks away, off of the bed. He breathes quickly and raggedly, clutching his chest. His serenity of the moment previous is totally gone.

Ivan looks at him, and then he lies back and closes his eyes. “Alfred,” he says, soft and disarming.

“You’re a liar,” Alfred breathes, misery filling his voice. “Please stop, please just let me go.” He knows as soon as the words are out of his mouth that they are meaningless. He stays not because Ivan won’t let him go, but because Ivan has a part of his heart. Alfred cannot leave, because he can’t make himself, won’t let himself.

“Tell me how I’m a liar,” Ivan says, stretching an entreating arm out toward Alfred. His fingers dangle in the air. His eyes are still closed.

Alfred backs away. “You don’t love me. You can’t,” he says, wretchedly.

Ivan’s eyes flick open. They’re looking at Alfred. “Says who?”

“You are a liar and the Devil and you exist to deceive and torment,” Alfred says quietly, more certain now.

“That is all true,” Ivan admits. “But why may I not love you still?”

Alfred has no answer, and when Ivan gets out of the bed and approaches, he doesn’t move.

“I love you,” Ivan says, taking Alfred’s hands into his own. Alfred trembles. “I love you,” Ivan says, turning Alfred’s palms upward and kissing them, right then left. “I love you.” Arms wrap around Alfred’s shoulders. “I love you.”

“How could you possibly?” Alfred whispers.

Ivan pulls back, gazing into Alfred’s eyes. “You make it easy,” he says, with a smile like the sun, and Alfred’s doubt melts just a little.


End file.
